Page 6 of Heart of Snow
“But what of Samuel’s injury?” the countess continued. “If he’s not properly cared for—”
Her father lifted a hand to stop her. “The kaiser will treat his noble captives with the respect demanded by their rank. Samuel’s needs will be looked after. So long as he is allowed to live.” He ground out the last words. “I will send Dalwigk to search and see if we can’t learn more of Samuel’s welfare and whereabouts, but in the meantime, Margaretha,”—he leaned forward, his attention fixed on her—“you should seriously consider accepting the queen’s invitation.”
The countess fell into silence.
I couldn’t understand the importance of the queen’s invite and was too tired to think about it. The nobles continued their discussion, talking past me, as they apparently no longer needed my input. When the coach tilted back, climbing the steep hill to Wildungen’s old fortress-castle, I sagged into the velvet cushions. Before we’d even arrived at the gates, the steady bounce of the coach tempted me toward the oblivion of sleep. I gave up fighting and welcomed it.
Chapter 3
Margaretha
I flipped through the journals,catching Belinda watching me from her pallet on the floor. “Have you had another nightmare?”
She scoffed. “I never have nightmares.”
I left her lie unchallenged and ran my finger down the page of the journal.
“What are you doing?” She leaned up on her elbow.
“Research.”
Belinda’s pallet creaked as she threw back her coverlet and climbed up to my bed. “Make room.” She gave me almost no time to move before squeezing her way under the blankets, pressing her cold feet to my leg.
“Gah, your toes are icicles!” I kicked her foot away.
She nodded to the books in my hand. “What do you read?”
“Elizabeth’s journals from Brussels.”
“You’ve decided to go, then?”
“I don’t know what choice I have. I can’t sit by and leave Samuel to his fate.” I tossed the pile of journals to the foot of the bed. “Why does Queen Mary persist in inviting me anyway?”
Belinda shrugged. “It is the way of things, having noblewomen of lower rank working for their betters. It’s why I serve you.”
“Yes, but she could have maids from any territory in her brother’s vast empire. The daughter of a poor German count hardly seems worth her notice.”
“Your sister served her well as a lady-of-honor. It’s not unreasonable the queen would hope the same of you.”
“Much good Elizabeth’s service did her,” I muttered. Elizabeth had always been our parents’ favorite, earning the bulk of their attention and lofty expectations. She’d been trained to marry well, and marry well she did, though her first child had still been in her belly the day she’d died.
I leaned against the wooden headboard, the smell of it musty and ancient, just as it had been when I was a child. All those years I’d spent away—off in Waldeck, then in the Netherlands with Uncle—and yet the room remained unchanged, as if I’d never left. The blood-red drapes brooding over the bed; the small, smoking fireplace; the cracked looking glass in the empty corner. Each part of the room revived memories I’d long struggled to bury.
But the searing burn of my hand trumped them all, refusing to be ignored. I tugged at the bandage, unwinding the wrappings until my burn was exposed.
Belinda pulled herself up beside me, sucking a breath through clenched teeth as she looked at my hand. “What befell you?”
My anger with the soldier had already dissolved, acknowledging my own fault in the event. It would never have happened had I not been so entranced, so bent on understanding what pain I’d inflicted... so full of guilt. “Utter foolishness,” I answered, angling my hand to study the blister in the dim firelight. The salve I’d applied offered scant relief from the unrelenting burn. At the bonfire, I’d been absorbed in my own guilt and suffering, but it all seemed selfish and narrow compared to the threat Samuel faced. I had to save him.
Reaching down the bed to retrieve Elizabeth’s journals, I sifted through pages till I found the one I sought. “I may have a better idea of how to help Samuel. Elizabeth writes here of Queen Mary’s love of hunting, saying the queen’s so fond of it that she fancies herself ill if she’s kept from it for more than a few days. And over here”—I flipped to another page—“Elizabeth describes the queen as a great horsewoman, with a seat as good as any man’s. I’m a fair horsewoman myself, and I think, given a few months’ instruction, I could learn to hunt too.”
“And what would that do for Samuel?” Belinda swiveled herself on the bed, pulling the blankets down with her as she sat by my feet.
“What if”—I tugged the blankets back to my chest, forcing her on top of the coverlet—“instead of marrying a man who could plead for Samuel, I concentrate on winning the queen’s favor? Surely she could speak to her brother and beg for—”
“I doubt a few months’ study of hunting would give you enough mastery to impress such an avid huntress as the queen. Even if it did, she’s only queen regent in Brussels because the kaiser granted her the position. It’s unlikely she’ll risk the regency or her brother’s ire by asking for the freedom of a religious rebel.”
I blew on my hand. “Then let’s haveyoube the one to win a man over. Your chances of success would be much higher than mine.”
